Where Angels Fear To Tread
by Faniela
Summary: He may be a fool, but in this world of fools, maybe it will be alright after all.


_**Where Angels Fear To Tread**_

He was looking out into the grounds from the North Tower when Harry Potter joined him. The boy spoke up just as he was about to ask him what he was doing here.

"It seems as if tomorrow will never come sometimes, doesn't it?"

A dry chuckle. "Oh, it will. It always does. What it brings, however, is another matter entirely."

"And what do you think that will be?"

"I don't know. No one does, and I suspect we are all the better for it."

"How so?"

"Because if we know what's going to happen, most of us would be running far, far away from here."

He frowned, slightly. "You don't know that."

"It's a war, Potter. I can't tell you how it will end, but I do know that there is only one way it can happen. People are going to die, and before the next sunrise the grounds shall be stained red by the blood of the innocent and wicked alike. The only reason why we're still here – hell, the only reason why we haven't all killed ourselves – is because we're fools enough to hope that things might miraculously turn out well after all. Merlin knows I would have found a painless way out five years ago if I had known what the world would turn into."

"Better a fool who try, if you ask me, than a wise man who doesn't."

"If it makes you feel better, Potter, then by all means think that way."

"And yet you're still here, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question.

A slight pause, then a reluctant admission. "Never said I wasn't a fool."

"I'm mad. You're mad. We're all mad here."

"Just for the record, I refuse to be Alice."

"You don't seem like the type to enjoy Alice in Wonderland."

"I don't. I simply read it as a sample of famous Muggle literature."

"Speaking of which, it has been too long since I've read a proper book."

A disbelieving snort. "You'll forgive me if I find that a little difficult to believe, given the pile of books I saw you looking through just last morning."

"That's not what I meant. I was referring to, you know, actually reading for leisure and relaxation, reading because I want to and not because I have to look up a spell or potion."

"None of us have had much time for leisure, lately."

"No, that's all too true, unfortunately."

"Never knew you liked reading, in any case."

"I do. Not as much as Hermione, obviously, but I enjoy fantasies, novels – I used to read them in my free time. I should like to find a few good books and lock myself in with them after it's all over."

"If you're still alive by then, you mean."

"Yes, there is that."

A comfortable silence settled in, and then, "What about you, Professor?"

"What about me?"

"What would you like to do when it's all over, and you're free to do whatever you want to again?"

He gave it a moment of consideration. Freedom to do whatever he wants, not having to care about betraying himself to the Dark Lord – he could hardly imagine it. Finally, an answer came to him.

"Butterbeer."

"Pardon?"

"Butterbeer. I'd like to be able to have a good bottle of Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks without having to worry about Dark Lords or Death Eaters."

"Oh. I understand that, I suppose. Though you've always struck me as someone who would prefer wine or firewhiskey."

"And you've always struck me as someone who is too smart to be fooled by stereotypes. Butterbeer isn't exclusive to teenagers, after all."

"Never said it was. I just never expected a grumpy Potions Professor like you to like them too."

"Cheeky."

"But you love me anyway."

His face broke into a reluctant smile, and he was about to retort when the sun cast its first rays of light over the horizon. The time for light-hearted banter was over, and a solemn mood settled around them once again.

"It'll be starting soon."

"Why, Potter, I never would have guessed. Thank you for pointing out the obvious."

"I just – never mind. It's been a pleasure knowing you, even though we got off to a rough start. You know that, right?"

"A 'rough start', as you so eloquently put it, is quite an understatement, but yes. I daresay the feeling's mutual."

"Right then, I should be going back to the Great Hall. I'll be seeing you then."

"In this life or the next. Of that, at least, I can assure you."

A nod, and he returned to looking out of the window once again. Across the grounds, it was steadily getting lighter. Another day had arrived, and this one may very well be his last.

Whatever it may bring though, he is prepared to meet it head on, just as he had always done. If that made him a fool, then in this world of fools, at least he is not alone.

Let it come.


End file.
